Stone and Water
by aimsleydale
Summary: When violent floods come to Sherwood and the surrounding villages, it's up to the merry men and woman to rescue people. Including Robin. And Will. Meanwhile, Much finds a strange cave in the woods... Written Xmas 2006, very minor spoilers up to S01E12.
1. Chapter 1

**Stone and Water**

**Chapter One**

It was still raining in Sherwood Forest. Still. After three whole days straight of raining, it was _still raining_. Water splashed through the trees in a steady, miserable downpour what made the ground thick with mud that clung to cloaks and boots, and ran down the soggy tree trunks and dripped down everyone's necks.

Much was standing around complaining, as usual.

'I cannot see why we can't just _go_ somewhere warm and dry, with food, somewhere where we have friends that will hide us, somewhere where my feet aren't, aren't swimming in my boots!'

John, sat stoically with his staff across his shoulders and water dripping off his nose, said nothing, but gave Much a long, grave look. Much lifted his nose imperiously.

'We haven't eaten anything cooked in three days. _I_ haven't eaten anything cooked in three days. All we've had is sodden bread and that is gone now too, and if I wasn't so hungry I would say good riddance.'

Djaq was sitting, shivering, on a fallen tree. She had given them all some sort of potion, made from crushed green berries and what seemed like a lot of water, that she claimed would protect them from the worst effects of the cold and wet. Much didn't think it could have done much good; he was still freezing and wet and chafing in uncomfortable places.

She rolled her eyes at him.

'What I wouldn't give for a little of that bread now,' Much continued. 'What I wouldn't give for a little _warmth_ and, and _dryness_, which we could probably _get_ if we went and _found_ someone who'd put us up for just a night.'

'We've no friends in Locksley today,' said John quietly.

'And whose fault is that?' asked Much, glaring at him. 'Whose fault is it that we have to sit out here like, sit out here like _animals_? Even _pigs_ get brought inside in weather like this. I am starving and freezing, and completely soaked. And why are they not back yet? They have been gone far too long.'

'Not being funny, but if he doesn't shut up, I'm gonna stick an arrow through his head.'

'I have _never_ been this cold. At least in the Holy Lands it was _dry_.'

'Shut _up_, Much!' said Allan vehemently. He was without a cloak, having given it to Djaq, and his jerkin was filled with water. She had looked rather offended when he had offered it, but not even she could deny the fact that she was the most affected by the unkind weather.

Much was still talking. 'Well, it was not always dry. Of course it rained sometimes, in four years, though _never_ like this.'

Someone flicked a pebble; it hit Much on the forehead. Slapping a terribly offended hand to his head, he cried out, 'Ouch! Who did that? Who _did_ that? Allan, it was _you_, wasn't it?'

Allan flicked another pebble, quite unrepentant. Much dodged it with a squeak.

'Do _not_ do that!'

'Gonna stop me?'

Much spluttered. 'How dare you!'

Allan raised his eyebrows. 'Like, how dare I chuck stones at Lord Much? Yeah, that's rich.'

Much kicked a bundle of drenched leaves at him, missed, and had to duck again as Djaq threw them back at him. She didn't miss.

'This is…! John, would you help? They're attacking me!'

John rumbled a laugh as Much leapt back from a double leaf assault.

'Fine!' declared Much, raising his hands in exasperation and wounded pride. 'Fine! Fine. Seeing as I and my views are clearly not respected, I will take myself and my views elsewhere.' He grabbed his pack from the ground and began stuffing his things into it. 'Fine!'

Allan threw another stone at him, and Much stood and drew a great breath.

'This is the last straw! I am going now!'

'Oh, sit down,' said Allan.

'No, I _am_ going, and I shall find somewhere where there is shelter from this infernal rain and fewer fools like you, and… and stay there and laugh at you. Yes,' he added as if to himself. 'Yes. Someone in this waterlogged country must be willing to take me in.'

'Don't be thick, Much,' said Allan. 'It'll be dark in a couple of hours. You'll get lost - and then you'll be sorry.'

'I shall not!' Much set his face determinedly and shouldered his pack. 'You're the ones who shall be sorry, when I am warm, dry and fed and you are not. Good day!' He turned to go, then turned back and said, 'And when Robin and Will come back, tell them… tell them that I am much cleverer than them going off trying to make peace in weather like this. _If_ they haven't gotten themselves killed already. Good riddance to all of you.'

The others stared as Much disappeared between the rain-soaked trees, his cloak winking out in the gloom.

'He'll be back soon,' said John, leaning back against a dripping tree.

'Yeah, well,' said Allan. He glanced at Djaq. 'I bet Robin and Will are fine.'

'They will be back soon too,' said Djaq reassuringly, patting him on the shoulder.

***

Much stamped angrily through mud, piles of fallen leaves and deep puddles, as the downpour drummed a steady, heavy rhythm all around him. Water dripped off his eyebrows and chin and he pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders.

'Good riddance,' he muttered to himself. 'If they want to sit around, in the wet, without any food, well then, fine, fine, let them do that. Let them just do that, then.'

It wasn't so much that night was falling as that the rain-induced gloom was becoming gloomier. Much was heading towards the path leading to Knighton – even in the soaked forest he knew the way – but found his route blocked by a flood spreading across a small gully. Going through it, even though his boots were already soaked, seemed like a bad idea.

Going around it, though, he lost his way. Somehow he was no longer sure of where he was, unable in the growing, wet dark to spot the usual markers or landmarks. He kept walking, cursing himself, the others, and whoever had thought up rain in the first place (then he realised it was probably God who had first thought up rain, and hastily took back the cursing with many apologies). He rounded a corner and began to slip and slide down the steep hillside, until he ran across one of the forest roads.

Or at least it _had _been a road. Now it was a streaming river of mud, which grew deeper every second with the incessant rain that poured from the open sky above it, and the water that ran off the hills to either side of it. Much, surprised at the sight, slipped over on the hillside and for a few terrifying seconds thought he might slither all the way into the deadly stream of earth and water, but was brought up short by a helpful tree. Covered in mud, he clung to its trunk and stared down at the streaming water.

It occurred to him then, chillingly, that if it carried on raining, all the low ground in the area would soon become flooded. The villages were probably in trouble, he thought. Locksley lay in low land, as did Dungworth and Bonchurch. His beloved Bonchurch, probably feet underwater by now. Deliberately not thinking about Bonchurch was probably the best thing to do if he wanted to get out of this alive.

He began to struggle back up the hill, and was reaching for a tree ahead when he remembered that Robin was in Locksley _right now_. When his hands completely missed the tree and he slid several feet back down, he decided that deliberately not thinking about Locksley was also an important thing to do.

He was still struggling, loudly and distractingly trying to remember all the words to _Two Lovely Apples_, when he spotted something unusual.

'Aaand I _said_ to her, what a rosy one's this, thy _something something_ for just a kiss, you've two lovely apples, something _la la_ and something _something_ in the staaaaa-ble…'

The mud became a face of rock further up, on which clung straggly moss and half-dead bushes that wept with the rain. In the dimness, the pale rock stood out, and the dark opening of a cave stood out even more. Much, after a moment's hesitation, began to head for it. At the very least it might be a shade better than the open, rain-filled air.

'_Aaand_ I suppose it could do, something a slice… and I'll _lala lala_ whatever the price, I've two lovely apples and _something_ right here and _something_ is quite aaaaa-ble…'

He trailed off as he stared into what definitely looked like a large, dry cave. Maybe, finally, Much had found a little luck. Tentatively, slowly, quietly, he began to enter the cave.

***

It was still raining. Djaq was collecting rainwater in her cupped hands, watching as the pool between her fingers slowly grew. Allan seemed to have gone into a doze; head lolled back onto the fallen tree she sat upon. John sat still and silent, as he had done since Much had stormed off. This morning they had chatted and joked about the rain and been hopeful about Robin and Will's prospects in Locksley, but as the day had drawn on without a sign of either of them the group had become sombre.

Allan jerked awake with a yelp just then, sitting up very sharply.

'What is wrong?' asked Djaq, putting out a hand to steady him.

'Uh, nothing, just sort of, weird dream thing. Nothing, really.' He began to get to his feet. 'Yeah, d'you mind if I go and just? You know, I need to erm.'

Djaq rolled her eyes. 'You are allowed to say the word 'urinate' in front of me, Allan.'

'Yeah, well, I wasn't gonna say _that_, exactly,' he said, shuffling off through the rain and trees.

John didn't even move during this incident, but remained still, gazing far from anywhere that Djaq could see. She began to hum to herself, a soft tune her mother had sung to her, a song about forgetting your troubles and laying them to rest. John shifted slightly, and glanced at her, but said nothing.

All of a sudden Allan was back, looking worried. 'Look, not being funny, but everything downhill from here's just like one giant mudslide or something. It's like a bloody river out there, seriously.'

'How bad is it?' she asked.

'Pretty nasty. I went down quite a bit to have a look, and the road down there's flooded, _bad_ flooded, you know. Reckon I saw bits of wood and stuff floating downhill, probably a cart what's been done in by the water. The whole hill's a death trap, I tell you.'

Djaq clutched her hands together. 'How long has it been like this?'

'I dunno, do I? We've been sat here all day, haven't we? Not like we went out looking for giant rivers of mud.' Then he understood her meaning. 'Here, you don't think Will and Robin… Or Much? Oh no.'

Taking a deep breath, Djaq asked, 'What should we do?'

'I dunno, what the hell _can_ we do?'

'We go to Locksley.' John stood as he spoke, swinging his staff in a circle around himself.

'No way,' argued Allan as Djaq began to gather her things, heart in her mouth. 'We'd never get there alive, seriously! That mud's _lethal_.'

'_We go to Locksley_.'

'And even if we get there we've got to get past all the mad villagers who think we're all murderers, _your_ fault by the way, and that's just assuming the whole town's not underwater which is a strong possibility-'

'You would just give up on Robin, on Will? Much?' asked Djaq, unfastening the extra cloak from her shoulders. 'They would not give up on you.'

'Well yeah, I know, but, and, Much did just walk out, thank you very much, har, and I told him not to go, and, and what the hell's this?'

'I am giving you back your cloak,' she said, fastening it around his neck. 'You are going to need it.'

***

The cave was very dark. In fact, it was extremely dark. Much kept his left hand on the wall beside him and the other just above his forehead, having already knocked himself on low ceiling twice. He could not tell how big the cave was, but a strange sensation of space and of cool air seemed to be around him. He stretched his right hand out as far as it would go, but could not reach any other-side.

'Hello?' he whispered into the darkness. It echoed, slightly. The effect was very, very eerie. He made a mental note not to talk aloud again.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Much slid down the cave wall to sit on the floor, not far from the entrance, where dark daylight could still be seen, and the rain heard. He would stay for the night, to dry off a little and rest, and then in the morning he would find the others and… not exactly apologise, exactly, but sort of just admit to feeling a bit bad for leaving them behind.

He felt sick, then, as Robin floated into his mind. Locksley could be engulfed in water, or maybe Robin had never gotten there in the first place, or else been swept away on his return, or anything could have happened, and Much was stuck here, quite helpless to _do_ anything.

'This is very unfair,' he said to himself, ignoring the echoes. 'Robin at Locksley, Much – stuck in a cave. Well done, Much.'

_Well done, Much._

Much jumped at the voice. 'Who's there?' he asked hurriedly. 'Who's- wait.' He listened, heart pounding, as this single syllable bounced around the cave. _Wait wait wait wait_… Breathing a sigh of relief, he said, 'It's only an echo.'

_Only an echo echo?_

He paused, but it did sound a lot _like_ an echo. 'Yes. Yes, only an echo. Nothing to worry about. Nobody here but me…

_Nobody here but you…_

There was something not quite right about this. 'I'm going to stop talking now,' said Much, feeling foolish.

_Now_ _now now_.

'I'll not sit here listening to talking shadows and imaginary ghosts. I'm a outlaw, you know.' He shivered. 'I really don't like this.'

_Really don't like this this_.

'I am one of Robin Hood's men. His closest man. …Assuming that Robin is all right…'

_Robin is all right._

'I'm sure he will be. I'm sure he is. I'm sure.'

_Sure?_

'If I'd stayed with the others, I might know if they're safe, by now. But I'd also still be wet and cold, and well, I _am_ still wet and cold, but that's not the point. The point is… the point is… There was a point in any case. In any case _I_ was in the right.'

_Right right right_.

Much stared into the distance, his unease at the situation growing.

'Right.'

This time there was no echo. Much drummed his fingers on his boots and tried not to imagine any sort of demon, spirit or ghoul that may or may not be able to talk in shadowy whispers. Then he tried very hard to imagine any sort of demon, spirit or ghoul that may or may not have very large teeth.

'… not to get a gander, not to _get_ a… not to _get a gander_ of _something _something apples, you've two lovely apples… you've, er, you've two lovely apples, you've two lovely apples, and _something_ la _la_ this lovely table.'

_Fable._

'I did not say that!' cried Much. 'I said _table_. It's _table_.'

_It's fable._

'It's table! _Table_, it's, "and _something_… something this lovely _table_."'

_It's, And he lived to tell this lovely fable._

'That's not how it goes, you can't just- I am arguing with an echo,' he realised.

_You are arguing with an echo that knows the words better than you._

Much clutched himself, throat very dry all of a sudden. 'That's not an echo. That can't be an echo.'

_Echo echo echo, _said the echo, and it sounded a lot like it was laughing at him.

***


	2. Chapter 2

Stone and Water

**Chapter Two**

The way to Locksley was dangerous and nearly impossible, but not as impossible as Djaq had feared. The three of them battled through deep mud and puddles that were becoming ponds, and at one point John had to virtually carry the other two through a particularly depthsome flooded gully. They discovered a cart upturned in the mud, but it was empty; horse, driver and cargo quite gone.

Locksley was a shambles of people trying to pile their things into carts and barrows to save them from the rising floodwaters, which now rose nearly a foot from the ground. They reached the main road to hear a man who seemed to be loading his entire family into a small cart give a shout – one of the wheels had slipped and the cart was going over. The three bandits rushed to help; Djaq and Allan pulling children and objects out of the water as John reached below the cart and heaved it back upright, rain splashing off his head.

'Thank you, _thank you_!' cried the man, clutching at Djaq as the others waded away to help another soul in trouble. 'I don't know how to thank you! Here, aren't you Robin Hood's boys?'

'Where is he?' asked Djaq immediately. The man looked worried.

'Sorry, but he and his man were locked in the miller's cellar after they got fighting with Farmer Crow.'

Djaq didn't hesitate to thank him before splashing off through the floodwaters, terror rendering her almost unable to breathe. Where exactly _was_ the miller's house? And where had John and Allan got to? Panic was all around her, in the people frantically trying to rescue their belongings and families from the rising flood. The miller's house was up the hill, by the church, wasn't it? Or was it nearer the carpenters?

She struck out for the carpenters in desperation, and saw the miller's house almost immediately. There seemed to be nobody inside – she banged upon the door and then kicked it open to find it in carnage. The miller's house was meant to store grain and flour and was well-built of stone, but even so it had not withstood the flood – water poured through the thatch and the stored goods had mixed with the water so that grain floated everywhere. Djaq began to search vainly for the cellar, not even sure what she was looking for, a growing fear of hopelessness in her stomach. It was far too late, she would never find the cellar, Will and Robin were probably already drowned beneath the stone floor.

Just then she heard a knocking sound, a loud banging to her left. She pushed her hands down to feel the floor and grasped a latch. After a desperately long moment of fumbling, the trapdoor came free and she wrenched it open. Robin and Will came bursting up through the water like balls out of a cannon. Robin scrambled out of the hole and knelt doubled up on the floor, choking and gasping as Djaq pulled an almost-unconscious Will from the cellar. Will clutched at her and wouldn't let go, even when they both fell and nearly submerged again.

'Thank you, Djaq, that was just in the nick of time,' said Robin, with a grin as soon as he was able to speak again, albeit hoarsely. Will clearly did not find the situation half so amusing; he was still coughing up water and his head seemed to be bleeding at the crown.

'What has happened?' asked Djaq worriedly, inspecting the wound. Robin was trying to stand, unsuccessfully.

'He struck his head on the trapdoor,' he said, coughing a little. 'Is he going to be all right?'

Just then Allan came running in. 'Robin!' he cried. 'They said you got locked in the cellar –'

Robin stood then, pulling himself gingerly up using a table. 'We were, but Djaq arrived just in time. Will's been hurt,' he added, gesturing to where Djaq and Will sat on the floor.

'It's just a minor cut,' said Djaq. 'He'll be fine in a moment.'

'Where is John?' asked Robin. 'And Much?'

Allan was looking a little sickly at Djaq and Will, for some reason, but his face changed to grim as he began to recount the events of the day and the situation in the village for Robin's benefit. A few moments later Djaq and Will were alone in the miller's house as Robin and Allan went to help people, Robin convinced that such actions would help the villagers trust him again. Djaq sighed, and helped Will onto a chair.

'Got to go and help,' he mumbled, ineffectively struggling against her.

'Rest first,' said Djaq forcefully, checking his wound again. 'You can go back to being a hero in only a few minutes.'

Will was silent for a few minutes, and then said, 'Thank you, Djaq.'

'You are welcome.'

'Djaq?'

'Yes?'

'… Nothing.'

***

'If you are not an echo, what am I talking to?' asked Much, trembling.

_Talking to to? I am an echo. I am a voice._

'Yes, but a voice of what?'

_A voice of what is._

Much bit his lip. 'Are… are you a ghost?'

_A ghost?_ _No. I have never been been dead._

In the deep darkness all around him, Much wished he could see something. It was very strange to sit and talk to something he could not see, especially when he could not see anything else either.

'So, are you alive?'

_A life I have never had._

'This is really very strange.'

_Strange strange strange._

'Is this _your_ cave?'

_Mine._

The echo didn't sound particularly angry or vengeful, but something about its definite tone worried Much even more than he was already. He remembered a childhood tale of a ghost that haunted its old home and attacked anyone who came near it, and shuddered.

This is an old place, said the voice suddenly. Older than you can imagine, Much.

'Well, I can imagine quite a long way back,' said Much. 'I can usually imagine all the way back to the time of Christ without much trouble.'

_Older._ _Older than the prophets, older than Abraham, older than Adam._

'I'm not sure I know what you're getting at, actually. And I _can_ imagine a time before Adam, though mostly I imagine a lot of black because that's all there was before then.'

_Look around you, Much. _

'I can't _see_ anything. Unless you count a lot of black and I– …Oh.'

_Seen and not seen. The beginning, and end and end._

A terrible thought had struck Much. '_I'm _not dead, am I?'

_People have died here before, in this place and in in in this cave. People will die here again._

'Look, would you stop being so mysterious for a moment!' Much realised how hungry he was, how cold he was. Could he have died upon the hillside and not realised? 'Here I am, talking to a, to a _voice_ in a cave, thinking I might be dead, while all my friends are somewhere out there in the rain and the dark, and I haven't eaten a cooked thing in three days! I _cannot_ have died without having had a cooked meal.'

If you were dead, what would your friends do?

'Well, they would mourn me of course. Robin… Robin would be very upset.' He paused for a moment, giving the question thought. 'In fact, I do not think they _could_ do, without me, I mean. I do much more for any of them than they give me credit for.'

Then why would they mourn you you you?

'They… They would realise how they can't live without me. They would be pretty sorry then.'

The voice said nothing for some time. Much felt more uneasy with its silence than its talking, and said, 'Echo? Voice? Thing …Am I really dead?'

The echo seemed to sigh. _Much, put a hand to your chest. Do you feel your heart beating? You are alive. But other people will die here, many of them. Some will be people you love._

'_They_ are out there,' said Much quietly, letting his hand drop from his chest. 'Doing who knows what, fighting for their lives, probably, while I am sitting here talking to a voice that is likely all in my head. In the Holy Lands men would hear voices like this and grow into monsters.'

_I am not imaginary._

'Just tell me I am not losing my mind.'

_You are not losing your mind._

Much thought for a few moments before saying, 'I have made a dreadful mistake, Voice.'

_There is still time to change it._

'How? It is dark now, and I would more likely die on the journey than be of any help, and even if I did not, I do not know where they all are.'

_Wait until morning._

'Well by then it may be too late.'

_Wait until morning, and then go to go to go to Knighton Hall._

'Knighton Hall? But Robin is in Locksley, and the others are in the woods somewhere.'

_Go to sleep now, Much. I will leave you now. Remember what I have said. Remember what I have said._

'What? Voice? I don't understand!' But the voice was silent, and Much felt very suddenly alone in the thick, enveloping darkness. Wrapping his arms around himself, he settled into a night that was likely to be filled with worry and fear about what his friends might be going through.

_By the way, _said the voice suddenly out of the black, _I was right, it _is _'fable'. 'Table' is in the second verse, not the last._

'_Voice_!' cried Much, but it didn't speak again. Much reflected bitterly on the whole situation. 'I hate this cave,' he muttered. 'I _really_ hate this cave.'

***

Dark had properly fallen when Djaq and Will emerged from the miller's house. The water had risen, people had lit lanterns, sheltered from the still steady rain, and many were still wading about, filling carts with people or possessions. John approached, carrying two children in his arms.

'Robin has sent most of them up to the church, but they will not fit all of them in. Many are wounded,' he said, looking at Djaq. She nodded.

'I will go,' she said. With a last look at Will, whose bloodstained face was half-lit by a nearby lantern, she began to wade through the deepening floodwater towards the church, which stood on higher ground. Around it clustered carts and people, perhaps those who were reluctant to leave their belongings or those who could not fit into the building. As Djaq pushed herself through the doors, she saw that every pew and much of the aisle was taken up with people – lying, sitting, squashed together in families or spread out around the wounded or sick.

She found Robin in the priest's parlour, engaged in an argument with the holy man.

'It is a sacrilege to have people sleeping around the altar!' cried the priest. 'You are an outlaw and a thief and your very entry into this house of God is a sacrilege!'

'These people have no place to go,' said Robin. 'If they cannot sleep here they will die tonight, mark my words. Do you want that on your conscience?'

'There is not enough room for all of them,' interjected Djaq. The priest, noticing her for the first time, nearly had a fit.

'A Saracen! A _Saracen_! You brought a _Saracen_ into my church!'

'A Saracen who is as good as a physician,' said Robin vehemently, and Djaq felt a spark of pride leap up in her at these words. 'And she is right, there is not enough space for everybody, but they have _nowhere_ else to go.'

'That's not true,' said a voice from the other doorway; they all span around to see-

'Marion,' breathed Robin. 'What are you doing here?'

She was damp and bedraggled looking, like everyone else, thought it showed more in contrast to her fine clothes. 'Knighton is on high ground, we are not flooded, and neither is road between there and here. I have come to offer the people of Locksley warm and dry places to stay.'

Robin looked like he could have kissed her, which to be honest was pretty much how he always looked around Marion. She beamed, obviously catching the look in his face.

'Brilliant!' said Allan, who had come in from behind Djaq. 'Let's get started then!'

***

A few days later, after the rain had finally ended, Robin Hood and his men (and woman) were walking up a hill, slipping a little in the still-damp mud. Much was complaining, as usual.

'I just do not think that this is a good idea, Robin. That voice was pretty certain that this was a bad idea.'

'You did not say it said anything about returning,' said Djaq.

Allan sniggered. 'Not being funny, but that voice thing is really kind of ridiculous, Mad Much.'

'I said, stop calling me that! I mean it!'

'Settle down, children,' said Robin. 'Are we nearly there, Much?'

'Yes, not that I want to be anywhere near that horrid cave again, Master.'

'Cheer up, Mad Much,' said Allan, grinning. 'Soon you can introduce us all to your lickle imaginary friend.'

'It was _real_! And it was a lot more intelligent than you, Allan Thickso.'

Will, who was scouting ahead, appeared before them. 'Robin, the cave is just a hundred feet or so uphill. And, Much, 'Allan Thickso' isn't a very funny nickname.'

'Too right,' said Robin. 'Come on then, men!'

As the others began to pick up speed, Djaq heard Will say quietly '_And_ women.' She smiled to herself.

Much was left behind from the general rush, and stood still, arms folded in consternation. 'Fine!' he declared. 'Fine! If that's the way it is, I shall stay here!'

'Come _on_, Much,' came Robin's voice from ahead.

With a deep sigh of frustration, Much began to follow them.

The End 


End file.
